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Sara

sara

Disclaimer: The following article mentions the topic of suicide or other sensitive subjects, which may trigger negative thoughts and feelings for those currently suffering or still recovering from a mental or mood disorder. Reader discretion is advised.

My husband and I had recently moved for a new job, we had a new house, and we had two loving boys. It wasn’t long until I found out that I was pregnant, and soon after, the nausea started. In fact, I threw up so much that I lost 20 lbs. within two weeks. I was immediately put on IVs to stay hydrated. During this whole ordeal, I was also dealing with a son who had epilepsy and a two-year-old. I had little support from family and was mostly on my own while my husband worked long hours.

Shortly after my terrible bout of morning sickness, I started coughing. Although I talked to my doctor about it, she assured me it wasn’t anything to worry about. A few weeks later, I suddenly spiked a fever of 104 degrees and quit breathing. My husband immediately rushed me to the hospital, where I quit breathing two additional times. In spite of the danger of miscarriage, I had a high-risk scan that determined I had pneumonia. After a few days in the hospital, I was sent home, but was very scared that I would quit breathing and no one would be there to help me.

In addition to this, we moved a few weeks later for another job change, which made me feel anxious and defeated. One day, while I was washing dishes, I started having a severe anxiety attack. I was having thoughts of hurting myself and worried about my kids having to see their mom like this. It was not like me to be like this–I am normally a happy, positive person, but I could not find a trace of me anywhere.

After delivering my healthy baby girl, the depression and anxiety came back within a few months. These feelings were compounded by family stress, sleepless nights, and a crying baby. There were many days that I wondered if I would drive my car off the road to end it all.

Additionally, I could not be around crowds at all, which meant I couldn’t go to the store or school without having an anxiety attack. I stayed on the couch for days crying and staring at the wall. My husband felt completely helpless, and my kids were scared.
Around this time, I went to church where a lady shared her story on her postpartum depression and anxiety. She encouraged those who were experiencing something similar to talk to her. That night, I very hesitantly called her because I knew I needed help, and I needed it fast.

Over the next year, this woman came with me to doctor’s appointments to get help, talked to me, and checked in with me daily. With the help of medicine, counseling, and this kind friend, I slowly crawled out of it. I did relapse many times, but slowly go to the point of seeing some light. I knew I had to stay on top of things to remain healthy, which meant constant counseling, visits with friends, a hobby, medicine, and lots of prayer. These things saved my life, and saved my husband and my children significant anguish.

If you have feelings like this, it is ok, but not normal. You have to get in to talk to someone, and medicine might be needed. Please don’t let it go. You deserve to be healthy and likely have people counting on you to be healthy. There is light at the end of the day, and there are more beautiful days ahead you are not meant to miss!

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